


Educational Purposes

by Traincat



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traincat/pseuds/Traincat
Summary: “I just,” Johnny said, flicking his gaze up at Peter through his eyelashes. He pressed the pen to his bottom lip and lowered his voice, pornographic. “Ireallyneed to pass your class, Professor Parker.”Peter snorted. “Cute, Johnny.”“Please, Professor Parker?” Johnny continued, and suddenly Peter realized that he wasn’t just joking around. “Isn’t there anything I could do to improve my grade? Anything at all?”





	Educational Purposes

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic from a prompt at the old Spideytorch kink meme: _Established relationship where Johnny almost gets Peter fired from an adjunct professorship when he shows up after-hours as the "naughty student" who'll let "Professor Parker" do "anyyyything" to him in exchange for an A_
> 
> This turned out very sappy and very self-indulgent. Set nebulously in some future where they're married. Peter Parker should definitely be fired.

“Hey, hon.” The kiss was quick, just a smack of lips, and then Peter returned to his desk. “You didn’t have to come pick me up. Who’s got the baby?”

“Your aunt,” Johnny said, leaning on the edge of the desk. Peter took one brief moment to let his gaze wander, noting Johnny’s tight t-shirt and tighter pants, the cant of his hips and the shine of his hair in the afternoon light streaming through the windows. Then, with a greater fortitude than it took to stop a rampaging Rhino, he made himself look back down at the work left on his desk.

“I’m not quite finished here, sorry,” he said, sitting back down and picking his abandoned pen back up. “Can I trust you to entertain yourself for a little while?”

Johnny hummed in consideration, stretching his arms high above his head. Peter followed the motion in his peripheral vision, snorting. Like Johnny needed to remind him about all the yoga he did. “I don’t know, Pete, I kind of had plans for you…”

Peter yelped as Johnny moved like flash, bending down and snatching Peter’s pen from his hand. He twirled it around his fingers, widening his eyes at him.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, staring suspiciously at him.

“I just,” Johnny said, flicking his gaze up at Peter through his eyelashes. He pressed the pen to his bottom lip and lowered his voice, pornographic. “I _really_ need to pass your class, Professor Parker.”

Peter snorted. “Cute, Johnny.”

“Please, Professor Parker?” Johnny continued, and suddenly Peter realized that he wasn’t just joking around. “Isn’t there anything I could do to improve my grade? Anything at all?”

“Ohhhh,” Peter said. He glanced at the door, as if the head of the department was going to burst in any second, but it stayed shut. “Oh, no. This is – this is a bad idea, this is not happening.”

Johnny just widened his eyes more, doing his best to look every bit the ingenue. 

“But Professor Parker,” he said, all breathy, “I _need_ it.” In his normal voice, he added, “Don’t act like me calling you professor doesn’t do anything for you, Pete.”

“Should’ve been a porn star,” Peter muttered.

“Damn right, I should have,” Johnny said, grinning. “Come on, Peter. Your aunt’s got the baby for the rest of the evening, and we’ve got this big, empty classroom.” He touched Peter’s tie, tracing a finger down, pausing to tap at the little beakers patterned on it. He looked up at him, his eyes shockingly blue, his cheeks pink in a way that had nothing to do with the outside’s early Autumn chill. He was beautiful, and here Peter was, thinking he could ever turn him down. 

“I’ve been thinking about you and this big, sturdy desk all day…” Johnny continued, patting the desk helpfully. There was a gleam in his eye. “Come on, what do you say?”

Peter sighed, leaning back in his seat. He turned back to his papers. He could practically feel Johnny deflate, his shoulders sagging and his head hung low, and Peter gave it a moment before he said, “I don’t know, Johnny. Your grades have been very disappointing this semester.”

He glanced up just in time to catch the flash of sheer delight on Johnny’s face before he schooled his features back into some very pretty repentance. He even pouted a little, shameless.

“I think I maybe need some tutoring,” Johnny said. He tapped his pen against his mouth again, pink tongue flicking out briefly. “You could help me, couldn’t you, Professor Parker? Give me what I need?”

“Come here,” Peter said. When Johnny didn’t move fast enough, he got up and circled the desk, reaching out to grab Johnny by his narrow hips. He squeezed before lifting him onto the nearest flat surface. Johnny faked a gasp and Peter rolled his eyes a little, but then Johnny was grabbing him by his tie, pulling him down in between his spread legs so he could kiss him, wet and filthy.

Peter grabbed him by the back of his neck and took control of it, lips drifting down Johnny’s chin, across his jaw. He bit at his earlobe, teeth catching at the solitary stud there. “You’ve been a very bad student, Johnny.”

“Uh-huh,” Johnny said, laughing. “I can’t help it, Professor Parker. You just make me so distracted. I can’t think of anything but you, your hands, your arms… your big, hard cock. You get me so hot.”

“Jesus, Johnny,” Peter muttered, lips to the hollow of his throat. 

“Professor Parker,” Johnny whispered in his ear. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“Don’t do that,” Peter said, biting at Johnny’s neck. “I’ll tear these jeans off you and then where will you be, huh?”

“I’ve got other clothes in my gym bag, Pete,” Johnny hummed, clearly delighted with the idea. He stroked a comforting hand through Peter’s hair, short nails raking against his scalp. “I came prepared, babe. You can do what you want to me -- _whatever_ you want.”

The sheer trust in his voice, his unwavering faith in Peter – as a hero, as a friend, as a lover – never failed to shake Peter to his core. He woke up sometimes in the middle of the night just to stare down at Johnny’s peaceful, sleeping face, to watch him smile in his sleep as Peter stroked a hand over his hair. He gentled his kisses, soothing over Johnny’s throat, and then he pulled back to rest his forehead against Johnny’s. Johnny had his eyes closed, his lips quirked up in that easy smile, all for Peter.

“What I want is a divorce,” Peter said, his voice flat as he kissed the tip of Johnny’s nose.

“Cute,” Johnny replied. He wriggled impatiently. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

“Not here,” Peter said, hooking his fingers through Johnny’s belt loops and gently tugging him off the desk, which was flimsier than his own. Johnny moved with him obediently, but there was a hint of disappointment on his face, and Peter realized that he’d thought Peter meant not in the classroom at all.

If only Peter were that strong of a man. 

Instead he twisted them around, pressing Johnny back against his own desk. He reached out with a surreptitious hand to sweep his work well out of the way – he’d worry about where it went later – as the other hand traveled up Johnny’s thigh, savoring the warmth of him, the little surprised noise.

“What would you do to pass my class, Johnny?” Peter asked, his hand skimming over Johnny’s ass. He gripped just shy of too hard, digging his fingers in. Johnny shivered a little, wriggling back against him, so Peter spanked him once, not very hard. Johnny still gasped, and this time it wasn’t at all fake. Peter fought not to smirk. “I asked you a question, Mr. Storm. I expect a prompt answer.”

Johnny swallowed hard, his eyes a little glazed. He licked his lips and said, “Anything, Professor Parker. Anything you want me to.”

Peter picked him up and for one second he just enjoyed the warmth of Johnny in his arms, the familiar way he wrapped his arms and legs around him, then he set him back down on the desk a little roughly. Johnny stared up at him, eyes wide and lips parted, thighs eagerly spread – Peter swallowed hard. Ready to do anything Peter wanted? It was the opposite way around.

Then Johnny started to laugh, his head thrown back with it.

“A prompt answer,” he said, snickering. “Tell me you don’t use that tone on the coeds. Geez, Pete. I love you.”

The last part was said with such sincerity that Peter had to tilt his chin up and kiss him – nothing steamy about it, just the soft press of their lips, over and over. Peter loved him too. Peter loved him more than the feeling at the very top of a swing, before he let go of one webline, the feeling of falling before he fired another. 

Johnny allowed the kissing for a moment, and then he curled his hands in Peter’s shirt, nipping admonishingly at his lip. This wasn’t part of his game, so Peter tangled his fingers in Johnny’s hair and only held him there for one more moment before he let him go, leaving him flushed and lovely. 

“Professor Parker?” he said, voice sweet as honey. Like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, even here, perched on top of Peter’s desk with those long legs spread.

He was absolutely going to get Peter fired. 

“One second,” he said, wrapping a hand around the back of Johnny’s neck and pressing a kiss to his forehead that made Johnny wrinkle his nose. He quickly slipped around the desk – and tried not to laugh as Johnny nearly fell off the top of it whipping around to follow him – to snag the spare webshooter from the false bottom of the middle drawer. 

He winked at Johnny as he fired a few web blasts, effectively locking the door from any stragglers who might be left in the building.

“Professor Parker!” Johnny gasped, lifting a hand to his mouth in poorly feigned shock. “Are you _Spider-Man_?”

“Stop it,” Peter told him. He unstrapped the spare webshooter, dumping it back into the drawer. “We’re not adding layers to your little experiment.”

“Experiment,” Johnny repeated, humming. “I love it when you talk science. Tell me a fancy equation or something. Hey, do you still have those old glasses?”

“No and no,” Peter said, circling the desk again. He ran his hands up Johnny’s thighs, then grabbed him by the hips, pulling him close. “Talk science. No wonder your grades are so bad.”

For a long moment they just kissed, Johnny’s hot mouth open under his in easy surrender. Slowly Peter felt himself start to unwind, the tension slipping from his shoulders, slowly leaching out of his back. The boy made out of fire – Peter would have laughed in his own face if he’d ever time-traveled back to tell himself at age eighteen that Johnny Storm could soothe his soul like this. 

“Okay,” he said, pulling back to rest his forehead against Johnny’s. His hands slipped from his hips to grip his ass, squeezing. Johnny arched into his grip. “You want to be my naughty student, pretty boy?”

“Yes, please,” Johnny said, his eyes closed and those long gold lashes fanned out against his cheeks. He added, in a low whisper, “ _Professor_ Parker.” 

_Don’t act like me calling you professor doesn’t do anything for you, Pete._ Trust it to Johnny to know him better than he knew himself.

“Up,” Peter said, gently smacking Johnny’s hip. “I’m going to make you work for that A.”

Johnny hopped off the desk almost giddily, and before Peter even had to say anything Johnny was sinking onto his knees. He stared up at him with those blue eyes, his expression open and guileless, and Peter found himself reaching out to stroke his hair.

“Like this?” Johnny asked, his hands sliding torturously slow up Peter’s thighs. “Is that good, professor?”

“Just like that. Good boy,” Peter said, fingers tightening a little as Johnny started to undo his belt ever so slowly. He flashed back to their morning routine – Johnny feeding the baby, Peter trying to find where he’d tossed his briefcase the night before – and distinctly recalled asking Johnny if he thought Peter should bother wearing the suit under his work clothes that day.

“Nah,” Johnny had said, pure nonchalance, unblinking even as he had oatmeal flung in his face. Peter had finally managed to find his briefcase, sitting on the coffee table in plain sight of all places. “Stick it in your bag if you have to. I think it’s going to be a quiet day.”

Peter wondered just how long he’d been planning this. He opened his mouth to accuse Johnny of, perish forbid, _actual forethought_ , but then Johnny’s long hot fingers were slipping into his slacks and wrapping around his dick.

Even now, Johnny’s eyes still fluttered shut at the first touch. It was, just like always, almost too much for Peter to bear, the weight of how much Johnny loved him. A responsibility simultaneously the heaviest and lightest thing Peter had ever carried. 

“Oh, Professor Parker,” Johnny moaned theatrically, promptly ruining the fierce rush of tenderness Peter felt for him. “You’re so _big_.”

Well, there went the romance. Peter didn’t know what he’d expected, really.

“You know I don’t teach drama class, right?” Peter said, biting back a snort. He stroked through Johnny’s hair, sending his blond curls into disarray. “This is biology, honey.”

Johnny flicked his gaze up at him, a spark of annoyance in his eyes.

“Oh, Professor Parker,” he said, flat. “Your reproductive organ is so engorged.”

Peter laughed, tugging gently at his hair.

“Yeah, baby,” he said, hand sliding to rest at the back of Johnny’s head as he pulled him from his boxers. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.” 

Johnny clearly considered his point made when he didn’t snipe back. He stroked Peter’s cock, tongue flicking out to lick, kittenish, at the head, a shy touch at odds with Johnny’s usual verve. His eyes were open, too, where normally they’d be closed, that sky blue gaze fixed on Peter.

This was part of Johnny’s game, too, Peter realized – playing the eager student, the ingenue, waiting for Professor Parker’s approval. 

And they said he couldn’t act. 

“Good,” he said, sinking his fingers into Johnny’s soft hair again, just petting as Johnny took more of him into his mouth. “That’s good, just like that. Keep that up and you’ll get extra credit.”

Johnny hummed happily, obviously pleased Peter had gotten the name of his game, and then he inhaled sharply and swallowed Peter down. Peter had to clamp his hands down on the desk to keep his knees from going weak, careful not to shatter the cheap wood beneath his grip.

“Oh yeah,” he grunted. “Definitely getting an A for that. _Johnny_.”

Johnny didn’t have to reply – Peter could feel him radiating smugness. He knew just what he did to Peter like this, how crazy he drove him. The wet heat of his mouth was incredible. He looked amazing on his knees, his lips wrapped around Peter’s cock.

Peter could let Johnny suck him off, tell him he got that A, and then they could be done with Johnny’s brilliant new idea about how to get Peter fired and go home. But Peter realized he didn’t want the game to be over yet.

What did he really need a job for, anyway? He’d married rich. 

With more force than before, he curled his hand in Johnny’s hair and guided him off his dick. Johnny made a faintly annoyed noise as he pulled off with an obscene pop, staring up at Peter in confusion. Peter carded his hand through his hair, tugging gently so Johnny would stop frowning.

“Get up,” he said.

“Professor?” Johnny said, somehow managing to seem completely innocent even with his lips shiny and his mouth centimeters from Peter’s wet dick, his hot breath ghosting over the tip. 

“I said, get up,” Peter said, putting enough steel into his voice that Johnny knew he could get up on his own or Peter would move him. Johnny licked one last striped up his cock, his eyes locked with Peter’s the whole time, before he pulled back and – a little shakily, Peter noted – climbed to his feet.

He dragged his thumb across Johnny’s red, wet mouth and Johnny obediently parted his lips, his eyelashes fluttering. If Peter had learned about his oral fixation earlier in life, he – well, he probably would have taken it out on Hammerhead or Electro or whoever was unlucky enough to get in his sexually frustrated path. 

“Pretty boy,” he said, pouring everything he felt -- _I love you, I need you, I’d do anything for you_ \-- into those two words. “You’re so good to me.”

Johnny’s smile had that distinct _I know I am, but what are you?_ edge to it that always drove Peter wild one way or another. 

“Please, Professor Parker,” he said, sliding his hand up Peter’s chest. “Teach me some more?”

If Peter ever found out who’d taught Johnny how to suck dick like that in the first place, they were in for a world of hurt. He slipped his hand around to the small of Johnny’s back, just holding him for a second. 

“Alright,” Peter said, pressing his thumb to Johnny’s lips. “Time for your pop quiz in biology.”

His own jacket he shed first, spreading it out on the desk and writing it off as an acceptable loss, then he swept Johnny’s tight t-shirt from him, skimming his hands up Johnny’s sides as he drew it over his head. Where it landed, he didn’t know – that was a problem for future Peter. 

“Hands together,” Peter told him, stripping the tie from his own neck. Johnny crossed his wrists obediently and Peter bound them just a shade too tight, the way Johnny liked. He didn’t miss the way Johnny shivered when he tested his bonds.

He frisked Johnny’s jeans, front and back, and sure enough, in the right back pocket he found a condom and a tube of lube. He held it up with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh, _professor_ ,” Johnny said, waggling his eyebrows. “I’ve _never_ done _that_ before --”

“How much suspension of disbelief is this little session going to require?” Peter asked, cutting him off. Johnny laughed. His grin was huge and delighted, eyes crinkling up at the corners, and Peter knew he’d let him get Peter fired from as many jobs as he wanted, as long as Johnny kept looking at him like that.

“Okay,” Peter said. His hand slid down over Johnny’s ass, squeezing. “Lie down on the desk for me like the good boy you’re pretending to be and let Professor Parker teach you some things.”

He helped guide Johnny down onto the desk, mindful of his bound hands, and took a minute to admire him. He was tan and golden against the dark grain of the wood, every line of him a work of art. 

“I wish I taught poetry,” he said, tracing a hand down Johnny’s ribs, where he knew Johnny was ticklish, just to get that gasp. “Then I could tell you how you look right now.”

“No offense, Pete, but I’m pretty glad you teach science then,” Johnny said, laughing a little. He arched his back and raised his hips meaningfully, lifting off Peter’s desk. “Save the poetry and skip to the interesting part?”

Peter dragged his tight, dark, doubtlessly expensive, quite possibly unstable molecule jeans down his hips, yanking them off and discarding them behind the desk. Johnny hadn’t been lying; he wasn’t wearing underwear. Peter took a moment to admire him, his golden skin and slim hips, the abs that he spent hours in the Baxter Building’s gym working for. He was hard already, just from sucking Peter’s cock and a little light manhandling. 

For a moment Peter thought about tugging the tie from around his wrists and making Johnny jerk himself off while Peter sat at one of the other desks and watched, instructing him how to touch himself. He was, allegedly, in control of the situation – if he told Johnny to do it, he knew he would. But he also knew that wasn’t what Johnny wanted, not really. Johnny always wanted to be adored. More than that, Johnny always wanted to be touched. They’d tried having Skype sex a couple of times in the past, when Peter was away at conferences or when Fantastic Four business took Johnny away for days at a time, but Peter always found it a little hard to jerk off to the sight of his gorgeous husband touching himself when Johnny simultaneously radiated more loneliness than an Antarctic wasteland. 

He still mentally filed the idea away for another time. Maybe with outfits involved. Maybe he could get Johnny to wear a lab coat. Maybe Johnny’s idea of glasses _could_ come into play.

“Professor?” Johnny asked, startling him out of his reverie. The note of reservation in his voice was at odds with the sparkle in his eye and the way he couldn’t quite keep the knowing smirk off his face. “Do you like what you see?”

He spread his legs and arched his back, his bound hands stretched above his head, totally on display for Peter. Peter wanted to take his photo. He wanted to fill a whole gallery up with just pictures of Johnny like this, naked and ready for it, and then not let anyone else in because this sight was just for him.

“Pretty boy,” Peter said, running a hand down Johnny’s side. “Too busy hitting the gym to hit the books?”

“You know me, professor,” Johnny said, preening. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?”

“You could’ve tried turning in a paper on time,” Peter said, and Johnny narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m just saying, writing ‘Fuck Me’ across your eyelids or whatever the backstory is here is one thing, but maybe do an assignment once and a while –"

“Pete,” Johnny said pointedly. 

“Right, right, this is some kind of fantasy where your grade point average doesn’t actually matter,” Peter said. Johnny scowled and opened his mouth to say something, so Peter cut in with, “All that matters is how good you look spread out for the taking on my desk.”

Johnny shut his mouth and Peter tried not to laugh. He was so easy, and Peter loved him so completely.

That morning they’d kissed lazily, Johnny lying on top of him, gloriously sunshine warm even on an overcast morning. He’d hummed happily when Peter’s hands slipped down to squeeze his ass meaningfully, then laughed as Peter moved to flip them over – which was of course when the alarm had gone off. The baby had started crying. The dog began to bark.

Peter hadn’t even wanted the dog, he remembered thinking, lying in his rumpled bed and gazing up at the ceiling as Johnny hopped to attention and nearly tripped over one of Peter’s shoes in the process. He’d remarked on that and Johnny had stuck his head around the corner and snapped that Peter had ten minutes to get in the shower or he’d be late. (“Again.”)

Johnny Storm-Parker, responsible adult. Allegedly. 

“You can be rough, professor,” Johnny said, biting his lip. His voice had gone all breathy in anticipation. His wedding ring glimmered around his finger in the dull yellow light of Peter’s classroom; neither of them had made any move to take it off. “I can take it.”

“I like to make a thorough study,” Peter replied. He trailed a hand up Johnny’s inner thigh, and Johnny spread his legs a little wider for him. Peter was going to have to stop making fun of his yoga classes, which was unfortunate because it was pretty much his primary hobby after webslinging and photography. “It’s a habit you should pick up if you want to be a better student.”

“I don’t know,” Johnny said, breath picking up a little as Peter pushed two slick fingers into him. “I, mm, think I need a little one-on-one attention, you know?”

“You’re saying you need a private tutor,” Peter said, eyes fixed on the slide on his fingers in and out of Johnny’s body. He crooked them, knowing it would make Johnny shout, and he wasn’t disappointed. “You seem like a faster learner to me, pretty boy.”

“Things you’ve literally never said to me before,” Johnny muttered, shifting as Peter stretched him.

“This is a little different than watching you try and build a bookshelf, thanks,” Peter said, slapping his ass as he pulled his fingers out.

“I’m so fucking glad you don’t teach shop,” Johnny said. Peter leaned over him on the desk to kiss him, long and deep.

“You good?” he asked. 

“I’m good,” Johnny said, arching his back and making a show of pulling at his bindings. One foot skimmed over the back of Peter’s thigh, and Peter caught him by the ankle, rubbing his thumb over the knob of it. “You’re a good teacher, Professor Parker.”

“Now, strangely, that one I have heard before,” Peter said. He gave him one last kiss and then he pulled back. 

Johnny really was a sight, spread out naked on his desk with his hands bound above his head, his cock hard and his legs spread, his hair a halo of soft curls. Peter didn’t know how he was ever going to look at his desk the same way again, the sight of Johnny like this was so arresting. 

Classes on Monday were certainly going to be interesting, he thought, as he ripped open the condom packet. Johnny’s eyes sparked like he knew what Peter was thinking, and his smirk took on a smug edge. Peter smoothed a hand up his thigh as he lined himself up.

“I wouldn’t be smiling like that with _your_ grades,” he said. Johnny laughed, delighted, and it turned into a moan as Peter started to push in.

“ _Ohh_ , professor,” he said, head flung back. “You’re so _big_.”

Peter groaned, only a little bit at Johnny’s theatrics. “I guess you could say you’re hot for teacher, huh?”

Johnny’s laugh was short and surprised, his heel digging into the small of Peter’s back to urge him deeper.

“Okay, now that, that is a failing –” Peter rolled his hips up sharply to shut Johnny up and Johnny’s joke dissolved into a high whine. The desk creaked a little ominously as Peter rocked into Johnny, sheathing himself in one thrust.

“I’m the only one allowed fail anyone in this classroom, hot stuff,” he growled, just to watch Johnny’s eyes widen, his surprise genuine this time. “Shut that smart mouth and maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Oh,” Johnny breathed, biting at his lip. “O- okay. Yeah. I mean, yes, professor.” 

“Good,” Peter told him. “Then we won’t have any problems in this class, will we?”

Johnny shook his head. 

“Pete,” he said, voice barely a whisper, hands flexing above his head. “Please.”

“Anything, hot stuff,” Peter said, starting to move. “You know that. You’re beautiful.”

That made Johnny smile, the one reserved just for Peter, wide and full of sunshine. 

“Is that, ah, the only reason you’re doing this, professor?” he asked, a little breathless. 

“What can I say?” Peter said, thrusting deep. “I’m a big fan of education.”

Johnny laughed at that, and Johnny laughing made Peter laugh too. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but Johnny had always brought this out of him, in the bedroom and outside of it. He remembered the coat room at Harry and Liz’s second wedding, and up against the wall of the cruise Johnny had talked him into for their anniversary, only just hidden from the other passengers, his dinner jacket on the ground and his tie in Johnny’s mouth. Maybe most notably, Jonah’s guest bathroom during his retirement party. They – okay, Peter – had accidentally ripped the towel bar from the wall, but he figured the costs of repair about added up to what Jonah had shaved off his paychecks all of those years.

The one time he and Johnny had gone camping, which had been an overall disaster. Peter couldn’t regret it when he remembered Johnny declaring they should go skinny dipping and what that had inevitably led to – even if they’d had to hide when a walking tour full of senior citizens had made an unexpected appearance.

“Imagine what people would think if they walked in right now,” Peter said as he fucked Johnny, picturing it – the janitor, or that snooty history professor he couldn’t stand, the one with the bald spot and the tweed jackets. “Seeing you all laid out on my desk, taking it so good for your teacher. Knowing that this is how you earn your grades.” 

Johnny whined inelegantly in his ear, straining at his bonds. He was close. Peter could feel it. He tightened his grip on Johnny’s hips, possessive, just thinking about it – that door opening and someone, anyone, seeing Johnny like this, spread out under him, naked and moaning, cock hard and leaking all over his stomach. Seeing Peter fucking him.

“You fuck all the teachers, pretty boy?” he asked. “Get all your grades this way? Or am I just special?”

“Just you,” Johnny panted. “There’s only you, Professor Parker, I love you –”

Peter reached between them, stroking his cock mercilessly. Johnny came hard, body clenching down around Peter, with a wild yell Peter hoped no one was around to hear. Peter stroked him through it, then pet at his sides as Johnny’s chest heaved, his eyes shut tight.

“Good boy,” Peter soothed, forehead down against Johnny’s as Johnny’s breathing evened out, still choking on little moans. He felt like he was pulsing inside him, at odds with Johnny’s inferno heat. Everything in him screamed at him to move, to fuck Johnny harder, faster, to break the fucking desk. “Good, good boy.”

“Pete,” Johnny murmured, and Peter pressed his lips to his forehead before he straightened up.

“That’s Professor Parker to you,” he chided, getting a small smile from Johnny.

“Sorry, professor,” he said. “I’ll, mm, I’ll be good.”

He gasped as Peter pulled out and flipped him over, Johnny braced against the desk on his elbows with his ass in the air. He glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes wide, and Peter caught the smile two seconds before Johnny schooled his features back into that practiced look of innocence.

“I know you will,” Peter said, pushing back in. Johnny groaned, his head bent forward. “You’re always so good for me, hot stuff. Love you so much.”

It was letting the act slip, but he figured it didn’t matter much now, and he wanted to be sure Johnny knew. Peter thought he did. He hoped he did. Maybe one day, if Peter told him enough, he could be sure. 

The tight heat of Johnny’s body and the pretty noises he made, still panting “professor”, carried him over the edge. He came hard, gripping Johnny’s hips as he tried to stifle his own groan, not entirely sure if they really were alone in the building.

Thinking about the snooty history professor walking in on them in the middle of fucking was one thing. The idea of anyone banging on the door trying to figure out why it was locked and what Peter thought he was doing in there was another. 

“Next time, we do this in my office,” Peter mumbled, and Johnny laughed, arching under him. “Provided I get a bigger office.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” he said. “No rush, Pete, but if you don’t get off of me in a few minutes you’re going to be down a tie. My wrists itch.”

Peter pulled off of him with great difficulty, leaving him there as he disposed of the condom and mentally reminded himself to take the trash with him when they left. He turned back to help right Johnny, grabbing him by the hips and setting him back on his jacket. He was never going to be able to wear it again without thinking about Johnny moaning ‘professor’ in his ear.

“Here, let me,” Peter said, unwinding the tie from Johnny’s wrists and stuffing it into his pocket. He rubbed at Johnny’s arms, frowning a little at the red marks left behind. He always bruised so easy. Johnny didn’t seem to mind, laughing a little as Peter raised one of his hands up so he could press a quick kiss to his wrist. 

“You’re romantic, you know that?” Johnny told him, smiling at him.

“Remember that the next time you get mad at me for forgetting to walk the dog,” Peter said. 

“How hard is it to remember to go around the block before you go swinging?” Johnny asked. He stretched like a cat, golden and naked on Peter’s desk. He seemed in no apparent rush to put his clothes back on, and Peter wasn’t exactly complaining. He wished he had his camera. He wished he could quit his job and just take pictures of Johnny like this all day, just fucked and beautiful.

Well, maybe if Johnny actually got him fired he could take that up.

“So?” Johnny asked, leaning forward so he could walk his fingers up Peter’s chest. He widened his eyes innocently. “How’d I do, Professor Parker? Did I pass?”

Peter made a considering noise, sliding a hand to the back of Johnny’s head and tugging him up into a kiss. Johnny laughed into it, delighted, and Peter let the warmth of his mirth spill into him, lighting him up from the inside out.

“I’m not sure,” he said, running his hand down Johnny’s back. “We’ll have to see how you do on the take home assignments.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://traincat.tumblr.com)!


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